I never had a burning desire to get a tattoo. In fact, it was something I said I would never do. For one thing, I consider myself a pretty big baby and avoid physical pain at any cost. Since that time, tattoos have become much more common, but they weren't something I gave much thought about.

When I got my first tattoo, it wasn't planned. I was in my early thirties and a few friends were over, and somehow the subject of getting tattoos came up. I had no idea what I wanted, and before we even left the house one of my friends said, "Get Jiminy Cricket!"

I'm not sure where he got the idea of Jiminy Cricket, but I thought, "Hmm. Why not? I've always been a huge Disney fan, and Jiminy would be cute!" Here is a current pic of Jiminy on my ankle, and as you can see he's looking pretty tired about now. (He is about fifteen years old.)

​Anyway, when we got to the tattoo parlor, one of my closest friends was being secretive about the tattoo she was getting and I was curious what all the mystery was about. I was touched to discover she had gotten an image to memorialize my daughter, who had passed away the year before -- touched, and more than a little disappointed in myself that it hadn't occurred to me to do the same. (As I said, I hadn't given this whole tattoo thing a lot of thought.) Since then, I flirted with the idea of adding to the tattoo I had to remember Sydney in some way, but nothing really worked, and I always had it in the back of my mind to come up with something that was appropriate.

Fast forward to about thirteen years later and I'd still done nothing about another tattoo. My son was turning eighteen, and for his birthday he wanted a tattoo to memorialize his sister. This thing turned out to be pretty elaborate. If you look closely, you can see her name in one of the dog tags and the dates of her birth and passing in the other. I was so impressed by his, it once again started me contemplating if I should get some new ink and do the same. But what to get?

I don't remember how it came about -- I think maybe I was searching for some inspiration for remembrance tattoos -- but somewhere along the way I came across the perfect image. Sydney's favorite Disney movie was The Lion King. It is also one of my faves, and the best scene from that film is when Mufasa is speaking to Simba from the clouds and tells him, "Remember who you are." I've always felt that scene had multiple layers of meaning that I won't go into here. But anyway, this was the image I wanted, and I even visualized a way in which Sydney's name could be subtly drawn into the design of the cub. I'd told my son about it but never moved forward, and he continued to periodically nudge me to get it done.

​My son Quinton is turning out to be quite an ink addict, and last year the older brother of one of his friends was on leave from the Navy and treated each of them to tattoos. Hence, the birth of Spidey here on his calf. Then he went on to have ink added to the original image of the cross, with clouds, a stairway to Heaven, birds, etc.

Throughout all of this, he kept giving me a hard time about how I was never going to get my Simba tattoo. But now that I had decided on the image, I didn't know where to put it. I didn't want it on my opposite ankle. I thought about my shoulder, but I wanted to be able to see it. Ideally I wanted it on the top of my foot, but I'd heard about how bloody painful those were to get, and I kept putting if off. (Recall my earlier reference to my avoidance of pain.)

Finally, finally I made the appointment and got my tattoo to remember Sydney, and yes, it most certainly hurt like a... well, you know. Put it this way -- I implemented Lamaze breathing while getting it, and I'm not kidding. But I am so happy with it! Everything about it is perfect. It's consistent with the Disney character theme I started, and it couldn't be a more fitting tribute to her. And that, my friends, is the story of my long time coming tattoo. Can you see her name in the cub?

I'm pleased to take part in Isabella Louise Anderson's cover reveal for her latest novel Cards from Khloe's Flower Shop. Isabella created the Facebook group Chick Lit Goddesses, a place where I have met some amazing women authors who generously offer their support, advice, and friendship.

I love this cover. Isn't it beautiful? Congrats on your upcoming release, Isabella! Keep scrolling to read the blurb.

As the owner of a successful florist shop, Khloe Harper trusts her instincts. She has a strong bond with her family and friends, but after being betrayed by her last love, she's kept herself at arms’ length from romance. When dashing entertainment attorney Derek Thomas walks into her store, Khloe’s interest is piqued. What at first seems like a business relationship quickly turns into romance, and Derek slowly plucks away the petals she’s been hiding behind. Just as Khloe lets down her guard, she discovers that Derek may not be worthy of her love after all...Frumpy Connie Albright has a faux fascination with an imaginary man named Walt, sending herself flowers from him to feel less out-of-place with the “mean girls” she works with. Gabby Lewis, a recently widowed senior, isn't ready to give up on love—which means releasing herself from survivor's guilt and taking a chance on finding happiness and companionship again.​As these stories intertwine through flowers and cards sent from Khloe's shop, the three women begin to learn that love can only truly blossom when you trust your heart.

Author Bio: Isabella grew up with a book in her hand, and to this day nothing has changed. She is a member of the Romance Writers of America and has been featured on several blogs. While Isabella doesn’t blog a lot, she focuses her time on featuring other writers, along with working on her next book.

She createdChick Lit Goddessto share the love of the following genres: Chick Lit, Contemporary Romance, Romance, and Romantic Comedies! She loves featuring authors and their books, and has a book business, Goddess Book Tours.Currently, she lives in Dallas with her husband. She enjoys spicy Mexican food and drinking margaritas, and can be found spending time with family and friends, cheering on the Texas Rangers, and reading.Isabella’s short story, Meet Me Under the Mistletoe, was featured in Simon & Fig’s Christmas anthology, Merry & Bright, in November 2013. The Right Design is her first novel.

There's no question a belief in God would come in handy. It would be great to think there's a plan, and that everything happens for a reason. I don't happen to believe that. And every time one of my friends says to me, "Everything happens for a reason," I would like to smack her. --Nora Ephron

This past week when I was on Facebook, I began seeing multiple posts from someone I used to work with--I'll call her Mary--in which she was sharing photos of her two-year-old son. Mary is not someone I see often on FB, however occasionally she posts pics of her children, and when I began seeing these pictures of her son more frequently, I thought nothing of it. I simply "liked" them for their amazing cuteness, and since there were no descriptions accompanying them, I scrolled on down to the next item. Then yesterday I was absolutely horrified to see her tagged in a post by one of her friends which explained that Mary had tragically lost her son in an accident.

I am sixteen years out from losing my own child to leukemia, so my first instinct was to reach out to Mary and try to offer some words of comfort. Ultimately I did offer her an ear if she needs one, but really, what kind of comfort can I possibly offer? She and her husband are in the deepest, blackest of holes, enduring the worst emotional pain a person can endure, and honestly, what do I know of her grief? Sure, I know more than most people because I've also lost a child. But what do I really know of her personal grief and the loss she has suffered? I don't know what it's like to lose a child in the manner Mary lost her precious little boy.

I would like to tell her that, for some time, her older child will be the only thing that gets her out of bed each day, so she should be exceedingly grateful to still have her; not that her daughter can in any way serve as a replacement for her beautiful boy, but she will give Mary a reason for living. Because in truth, on most of the days immediately ahead of her, she won't want to live.

Then I stop and think, "Grateful? She should be grateful?" That's about as dumb-ass a sentiment as saying everything happens for a reason.

I clearly remember a day a few years after my daugher passed away, when I received a phone call from a friend who was close to hysterics. Through sobs, she shared how her daughter had been killed in a car accident. Someone blew through a stop sign, slamming into their car and her daughter was thrown from the vehicle. She didn't know what to do. She needed me to tell her how to get through, how she was going to survive her loss. I was the only person she knew who could tell her, and there was such urgent desperation in her voice. I'm sure those weren't her exact words, but that was the gist of her plea.

I was dumbfounded, speechless, paralyzed by my ineptitude. There simply were no words, only my heart shredding into a million little pieces for my friend. I'm sure I must have offered some empty platitudes, but really, what can one say except, "I'm sorry, and I'm here for you"?

Everything happens for a reason. I believed that once. I don't anymore. Well, I guess it all depends on what day you ask me, but I certainly never say it aloud these days. And I mean no disrespect to those who do believe that, or think that God has a plan. Everyone is entitled to their beliefs. I still have a strong belief in God; I'm just not so sure He plays such an active hand in our lives as we'd like to think. Yes, God is good, but prayers go unanswered all the time, and the idea that He answers the prayers of some and not others doesn't sit well with me. I do know life can be cruel, and the older I get, I personally feel it's all a crap shoot. Everyone thinks that losing a child, or experiencing some other calamity, is something that happens to other people but never to you. Until it happens to you.

I've wasted years of my life mired in the "why's" and can't help but slip back into them when something like this happens. Each time I see another picture or video of Mary's little boy, whose life was cut much too short, there's this screaming in my head. "WHY?????" We see countless memes online about how adversity only makes us stronger. I say screw that noise. There may be some truth in the adversity/strength argument, but I can guarantee you that Mary would much rather have her darling angel by her side than any strength she will gain from such devastating loss.

When David Bowie died a few months ago, I came across several posts in which bloggers expressed the significance of his music in their lives. Though I have several of my own Bowie favorites, and like everyone else was shocked by his passing, his music was never really a powerful part of my life.

However, the loss of Prince... this one hits hard.

I vaguely remember some of his hits from when I was a kid, "I Wanna Be Your Lover" standing out in my mind. I would have been eleven or twelve, and I distinctly recall the first time I saw his face on an album cover in Warehouse Records. It wouldn't be until high school that I became a fan, but something about the face on that cover drew my attention and I was intrigued by his androgynous looks. Despite the hair on his chest and the mustache, he gave off an unmistakable feminine vibe.

About three years later, other singles were making the charts such as "1999", "Little Red Corvette", and "Delirious", all of which I liked but he was still kind of under my radar for the most part.

Then Purple Rain happened. O...M...G! Don't get me wrong, I fully realize that one of the main reasons the album Purple Rain had such an impact on me was because of its timing. It came out right as I started high school, and this thing was huge. And honestly, if it wasn't for the movie--that cheesy ass movie--I don't know if I would have ever become the Prince fan I became.

I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure I didn't buy the album until after I saw the film. The music on that soundtrack was so different than anything else I'd heard. Purple Rain made me take a closer look at Prince, and I was hooked.

Those who knew me in high school know I was kinda reserved and modest, at least compared to the theater crowd I ran with. I recall being at a party, all of us watching that movie, and the heat rising to my face during a particularly racy scene. And the number "Darling Nikki"? That was a seriously naughty song!

But I think my favorite song from the album is "The Beautiful Ones". I will always remember the scene when he sings to Apollonia while Morris Day sits beside her, asking her to choose between the two of them. What girl would not die to have the man she loves sing those words to her? And the passion with which he sang it....Drool! (If you don't feel like watching the whole thing, forward to 3:20.)

So yeah, his music was a huge part of my youth and high school memories. And because of Prince, Morris Day's music was kind of big there for a while. Below is a picture of me and friends at the Hawaiian Dance in 1985, where we danced our little tushies off to "Jungle Love" by Morris Day and the Time. That's me in the bottom right.

One thing I am very thankful for is I did have the opportunity to see him live about fifteen years ago. Tickets to his concert were the most I'd ever paid to see anyone, and my friend and I ended up having to leave a little early because I was experiencing girl cramps that night that nearly had me on my knees. (Stupid girl cramps!) But anyway, I didn't really know what to expect from him in concert. Because he was so reserved, I always wondered if that reservedness was arrogance, and half expected him to have a bit of an attitude on stage. Not the case. He was one of the most gracious performers I've ever seen, and I feel blessed that I was given the experience of his music live.

So I'd like to thank him for being part of the wonderful memories of my youth I will forever hold dear, and for gifting the world with his brilliance.

​Goodnight, sweet Prince.

After publishing this post, I had to add this clip from the Jimmy Fallon Show in which he shares his experience playing ping pong with Prince. This is a must see. The good part starts around 6:00. :)

For the first time last Fall, the middle school where I teach held a lip sync battle with staff and students as part of our morning announcements, and I made my way to the finals and eventually became reigning champ. Woo hoo! It was a BLAST, and I fully intend to defend my crown next year. After giving up hope that I was ever going to receive my trophy, I finally received it this week. (Better late than never.) Isn't it awesome?

I thought it would be fun to share my performances with you below. :)

First Round - Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus
My family helped me choose this song and come up the concept of the performance. They were the ones who thought I should be sitting on one of the big bouncy balls. It was my idea to enlist two of my students to join me so I could beat the crap out of them with it. Heh heh. I thought I had the version where the music track was placed over the original sound, but I was mistaken. You can totally hear the boys cracking up in this.

Second Round - Single Ladies by Beyonce
This one is my favorite of the three. I love how our TV production teacher, who is the backup dancer on the left, made the video resemble Beyonce's by making it black and white. And the comic relief my colleagues provided with their dancing is absolutely priceless. It will be tough to top this one next year if you ask me.

Final Round - Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars
This one is my least favorite, simply because we tried to go too big by moving through the building, so with all the splicing that was required, the music track doesn't match the video. Bummer. However, the kids are super cute! Pay special attention to the little guy in the red shirt on the left at the end of the video. The dude's got some moves!

I've finally finished the third book in the Fortytude series and it will be heading to my magnificent proofreader Wendy Janes in April. Unfortunately, this one took me a little longer to complete than anticipated, so I'm excited to release.

One of the funnest parts of releasing a new book is creating a playlist to go along with it. I've always enjoyed including musical references in my novels, and Harmony to Heartburn— whose release is scheduled for May-ish — is no exception. (If you'd like to read the book's description, just go to my Home Page.)

In this post I've included little teasers related to each selection. I'd love to know which song is your fave!

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming tonight,” Carly begins. “Dad, Richard… Jason and Claire have prepared a little duet for the two of you to celebrate your anniversary, and we hope you enjoy it.” She bends over to speak to Claire. “Go ahead, sweetie.” Then my musically brilliant granddaughter begins to play. It takes me a few moments to recognize the melody is “A Thousand Years”—that song from one of the Twilight movies. She performs flawlessly for about a minute or so when her dad takes over on the keys and she begins singing the words. Granted, her singing isn’t nearly as good as her playing, but her innocent voice coupled with her father on the piano is quite simply one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard. Luke and Richard are still as statues, tightly gripping each other’s hand with their sights on Claire. Soon their eyes are moistening, along with my own. As I scan the room, there is not a dry eye in the place. Guests are wiping their faces, sniffling and chuckling with embarrassment. When the lyrics are over, Jason relinquishes the keys to Claire, and the room is spellbound by the notes coming forth from those tiny fingers. Though I’ve heard her play many times, I always seem to forget how truly gifted she is. At last, the song ends and everyone applauds as Luke makes a beeline for Claire and scoops her into his arms. “Happy Anniversary, Poppy,” she says. “I kind of messed up on some of the words.” “You were perfect, Claire Bear,” Luke answers. Richard stands beside them and smooths her hair with a trembling hand, and immediately lowers it to his side. Then there’s this weird moment when they’ve become aware I’m watching. Though Richard looks downward, Luke meets my eyes with a pained gaze before setting Claire down.

We’ve been listening to Hindi music all evening, but the selection now playing happens to be a particularly sensual instrumental with a slow heady combination of drums, violin, and sitar. We stand face to face, but say nothing. As his fingers lightly skim my shoulder and run down the length of my arm, he briefly scans my body from head to toe. My breath comes heavier and I wonder why I suddenly feel like a teenager about to be kissed for the first time. His hand takes its time finding its way around my waist, his fingertips gently pressing into the small of my back. While I wrap my arm around his shoulder, Kiran’s other hand collects mine and leads it to his chest, holding it there. His every movement is mindful, deliberate, as his eyes focus on mine; though occasionally his gaze strays to my hair, my mouth. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as cherished as I do in this moment, and the simple act of swallowing becomes difficult. Slowly we begin to move to the music, and though there are still several inches separating our bodies, there’s an exhilarating heat in my belly pleading with me to move closer. I don’t. As long as I’m the object of such adoration, I’m unable to.

*This song has a really long opening -- too long, IMO -- but it was my inspiration while writing this scene. Jump to about two minutes in.*

Seth sees us from the opposite end of the room and waves us over, and I can’t help but admire the dancing skills of some of the couples as we make our way toward him. That’s when I spot Dad dancing with the woman I assume Seth was referring to, and he’s surprisingly good. Watching the two of them instead of where I’m going, I bump into someone’s table and apologize for being so clumsy. “I am so sorry, Anna!” Gretchen jumps out of her seat when we reach their table. “This is all my fault.” “Oh please! Don’t apologize for including him in your plans. I’m still not even sure if I should be here, but I didn’t want you guys feeling like he was your responsibility.” “Well, if it makes you feel any better, he’s not behaved… inappropriately with this woman.” Gretchen peers past me. “He’s just having a good time.” Aghhh! I do not want to be here having this conversation. Mom and Dad are “on a break,” and I don’t even know what the ground rules are for this break. “But this woman,” she continues. “It’s obvious she’s into your dad.”​ Seth scrunches his face and looks behind him to see if Dad has noticed me yet. He hasn’t. He’s now doing some kind of shimmy thing with his shoulders that looks nothing like salsa, and the woman circles him, trailing her fingers over his arms, his back. Definitely not something I’m up for viewing.

While I chat with Carly and Geena, Kiran has been enjoying drinks with his father and Seth. When Geena looks past me and her eyes grow large, naturally I turn to see what has drawn her attention. Kiran now stands at the karaoke machine, touching the screen to scroll through the list of songs. “Umm…” I’m at a loss for words at first, trying to take in what I’m seeing. Kiran’s been known to let his guard down after a few cocktails, but this I would never have anticipated. “Is he trying to find a song for someone else? Or is he actually going to sing?”​ Geena gives no reply, her mouth slightly parted in what I can only assume is shock. As the music begins, it’s clear that he has no intention of handing the microphone over to someone else. After clearing his throat he offers the room a wide, intoxicated grin. “Oh my God. He’s really going to do it.” Mechanically, I bring my glass to my lips. In old Rat Pack style, he holds his drink in one hand and the mic in the other as he begins his serenade, eyes on me. “Some-day, when I’m aw-ful-ly low…” A sip of wine gets trapped in my mouth as I slowly blink at Gina, and I’m afraid to swallow it. Her face is just hilarious, as I’m sure is mine.

​ Luke slides down in his seat and closes his eyes. “This is nice, reminiscing about old times. We’ve had a lot of fun memories together, haven’t we?” “And tonight will be one more we can add to the list.” I give him a friendly pat on the leg, but when I go to draw my hand away, he covers it with his and holds it there. He opens his eyes with an innocent grin before squeezing my fingers and releasing them. Returning his smile, I take a sip of my drink. “You were heavy into Depeche Mode for a while. I remember,” he says. I was. I loved their broody, often sensual sound. However, a couple of songs on my cassettes I wouldn’t listen to because they creeped me out a little. “Yeah, I went through a phase where I had some serious fantasies about Dave Gahan.” “You and me both.” I smack him in the arm. “You did not... Wait, did you?” “I’m kidding! I wasn’t even out to myself at that point.” “Oh yeah. Well, I wouldn’t blame you if you did. That voice. And those eyes! Even though he was such a string bean.”

My brief post of thankfulness. Even though I may complain about occasional aches and pains, I'm thankful for my health and the health of my family; for my most awesome and wonderful husband; for my kind, amazing, and smart kids who I'm blessed to call mine; for my oldest daughter who left too soon, but is always with me in my heart and was the strongest person I will ever know; for my beautiful home and food on my table; for the best parents a girl could have; for wonderful friends I've known forever and others I've made recently and may not have met face-to-face; for the great, fun co-workers/friends/bosses at work; for the students who are kind, thoughtful and eager to learn (and I guess even for the students who are not and piss me off from time to time, LOL. There are far worse things in the world than an annoying adolescent). Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!